The Adventures of Bob
by The Mute Bard
Summary: Vault 8,13, and 15 weren't the only vaults. Their were other "Vault Dwellers". He is the strange story of one such adventurer on his exodus into the wasteland to find a new home for the people of his vault. But who will he meet on his journey?
1. Chapter 1

The Adventures of Bob

The Adventures of Bob

By: Hyuuga Zakuro

A Fallout Fanfic

General Disclaimer:

I don't own Fallout, Fallout 2, Fallout Tactics, or Fallout 3. So don't sue me.

Really.

All you could get is a few guitars.

Very well, on with the story.

(Which is very good if I do say so my self)

Introduction

The year is 2180. My name is Bob, just Bob. I don't have a last name, actually none of the test tube babies of the vault have last names. I used to get a lot of kidding about that. Most people that have poked fun at my name are dead; something to do with trying to catch a speeding bullet with their mouth. (Something I would not recommend.) I am twenty-four years old. This is my story.

Until 2173, I lived in an underground vault. When I was seventeen, all vault members over fifteen were analyzed by the vault master computer to see who would go out and search for signs of life, clean drinking water and a safe place for my vault to build a city with the aid of the glorious GECK. The computer reviewed a person's strength, dexterity, and fighting skills in order to weed out those to weak to survive in the wasteland that was sure to be outside. It also gave us tests to determine our problem solving abilities and intelligence in general. I did not score the highest in any of the tests, but I scored the best combination; not too strong and stupid, not too smart and puny, just right. I also have good people skills and the gift of gab when it is needed. For this reason, the computer chose me instead of all the others. I was then given two years of intense training in armed and unarmed combat, outdoor survival, trap detection, and public speaking.

When I left the vault, the overseer gave me a blue jumpsuit made out of something called durafiber, a composite fabric with the strength of kevlar and the look of spandex. He said that the suit would protect me from cuts and other dangers. I made a mental note to get something to put over soon, as its bright blue color really did stand out. The supply officer gave me a water vest that could hold five quarts of water. He also gave me a handful of gold coins that could be used for trade with anyone that I might meet outside. They had an odd picture of a woman with a baby strapped to her back. The armament officer gave me the best weapons available in the vault, an old thirty-caliber hunting rifle with the words "Winchester mo. 94" engraved on it, a nine-millimeter Berretta pistol with an eighteen round magazine, and a machete with a razor-sharp edge. I was warned that the wasteland might pose many dangers and to conserve my ammunition. I was given a hundred rounds of ammo for the rifle and two hundred rounds for the pistol. I felt like one badass punk.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The day I walked through the door to the outside was the greatest day of my life. I saw the huge steel door slowly swing open and got a glimpse of some natural light in the distance. As I walked toward the light, I saw the bones of many humans piled up near the door. I realized that these were people that had tried to get into the vault too late. Some were wearing jewelry, which I took the time to relieve them of. I collected twenty gold bracelets and necklaces. I also found twelve rings with various gemstones in them that I also took. I decided that they would make good things to trade if I found other people out here, besides, it was not like they were using them! I put on my sunshades and sombrero and stepped out into the wasteland for the first time.

My helping handheld companion (HHC. Also called a PIPboy, but I will never know why) told me that there had been an artesian well about twenty-three miles to the south of the vault, so I started to hike in that direction. My HHC was one of the most advanced modals ever made. It had all the basics, such as a calendar, an organizer, a map, and a holodisk reader. But this one also had a two-way satellite radio with a secure connection to my vault. The inter-vault satellites had been destroyed in the war, but smaller communications satellites were still functional. I was ordered to check in with the vault once a month, and to return within twenty-four months to give a full report.

While I was hiking, I thought about what circumstances had created this barren wasteland. All wars devastate the earth. Even small-scale conflicts like the Persian Gulf war result in some kind of environmental disaster, which is kind of odd when you think about the reasons for warfare. All wars are fought for one of two things. The first is religion. Religious differences are seldom resolved peacefully because each side is positive that the other side is wrong. Religion is often used to justify the other reason for war. The other reason for war is resources. People fight over land; gold; food; and natural resources such as wood, coal, oil, and natural gas.

Around the year 2021, tensions between two countries called India and Pakistan caused a nuclear war. The causes of this war were twofold. The people of India followed Hinduism, and the people of Pakistan followed Islam. Thus, both sides believed that the other side was inferior. The other reason for the war was, you guessed it, land. India was overpopulated and needed to expand, so they sent their army into a highly contested bit of borderland in order to gain full control of it. Unfortunately for that army, the Pakistanis decided that that area would look better if it glowed, and promptly nuked it. This attack is referred to in the vault records as "The first day of fire."

As in any war, lot of people got killed. Apparently nuclear wars were worse that a regular war (Personally I think when a person dies, it doesn't really matter whether the cause is a hand grenade or an H-bomb). This nuking quickly brought practically every country on Earth into the conflict. Allies turned against each other thinking that they could take more land and resources for themselves with a surprise attack. The former United States' ally of Canada invaded the U.S. with a massive force of actors and health nuts. The U.S. carpet bombed the invading hockey players with thermonuclear devices and made the border a radioactive glaze. Some Russians saw the missile launches and thought that they were aimed at them and got the bright idea of launching missiles at America. Needless to say, all hell broke loose after that and only those who made it to the recently constructed vaults survived the ensuing nuclear winter.

It is not known how many people survived or how many vaults have already opened. All I know is that approximately a hundred vaults existed and that some may have opened as early as 2090, only seventy years after the holocaust. Vaults were part of the US government's plan to survive any disaster. Different types of people were sent to separate vaults. The politicians were housed in vault 1. That vault probably did not survive very long; I can just imagine all those politicians living in one place, a pure nightmare! The Elite, the richest 1- of the population were housed in vault 2. The top scientists vital to rebuilding viable food sources and good living environments were housed in vaults 3 and 4. The Military and the soldiers' families were housed in vaults 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, and 90. The good ole U.S. of A. really outdid themselves with the military vaults. I guess that if they opened to see a bunch of Russians or Chinese rice farmers, they would have enough troops to re-conquer the continent. But I am getting off track. Vault 8 held a tiny backup of politicians and scientists. All Other vaults were used to house the working class Americans. They were the backbone of the old country. The only thing that puzzled me was that while all the vaults were listed in the computer databanks with the listing of the skills of the people housed there. Vault 13 was labeled top secret. I was able to hack the basic security codes, but was only able to find out that the people were never meant to leave that vault for a thousand years. It was supposed to be self sustained until then. I felt sorry for those unfortunate bustards…

Now I must return to the present time and not bore you with any more idle rambling. My vault was located in what used to be Austin, Texas. Now it is just more wasteland. I checked my HHC and queried the location of other vaults within a five- hundred-mile radius of my vault (Vault 27). I found that there was vault 26 two hundred and seventy-five miles to the southwest, and vault 28 was three hundred miles to the north. I made a mental note to check out vault 26 after I reached the spring.

I reached the spring as the sun was setting and tested the water with my Geiger counter. The water had little very radiation content and I drank my fill and refilled my watervest. I camped there that night and was awakened around three o'clock the next morning by a pack of wild dogs and coyotes. I drew my pistol and killed five of them with my pistol as they charged me. There were more that kept coming at me though. I did not have time to reload and had to use my machete. I twirled my machete around like a samurai would a katana. It was over in a matter of seconds and I looked around me at the bodies of nine dead dogs, not a bad day's work (if I do say so myself, furthermore, I do).

I decided to skin all of them and make jerky out of some of the meat. I was just finishing skinning them when I heard the sound of someone talking. I chambered a round in my pistol and hid against the wall. I could that someone was getting nearer and heard him complaining vigorously. "Why the hell should I get the water. We should send some kid for this job and hope that the dogs get him!" I heard him mutter. I waited until he got to the entrance of the cave and prepared to give him a big hollow pointed surprise! He saw the dogs lying dead and skinned and I never got the chance to surprise him like I wanted to. He screamed and stopped in his tracks. I thought he was going to run but instead he simply walked up to one of the dogs and started to drag it off. I then jumped out of the cave entrance, pointed the gun at him and told him to freeze. He put down the dog that he was carrying, turned around, and said, "I'd love to do that, good buddy, but in case you haven't noticed, it's over a hundred degrees out here!" I holstered my pistol and took a step toward him, making my first mistake in the wasteland. He was on me faster than I could react and pinned me to the ground in a crude headlock (Note to self. Never holster a handgun after pointing it at someone closer than 6 feet away). I knew multiple martial arts and was the best judo and kung fu master in the whole vault, but was totally unprepared for his sudden assault. Who would have thought that such a short fat guy could move so fast? Things started to happen really fast and the next thing I remember was lying in an awkward position on the cave floor.

I was hog-tied and smelled a strange roasting smell. The stranger had the largest dog roasting on a fire right outside of the cave. I was facing the wall and couldn't see very well at the time. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my head and jerked my hands to try to hold it.

"Awake now are we?" my captor asked. "I don't take kindly to people pointing guns at me, 'specially this early in the day. I might just have to teach you a lesson!" He finished with a sadistic laugh.

Here is where my psyche studies came in handy. I replied to him in a calm soothing voice. "I believe you have already done that, friend. Or do you like beating up defenseless people while they're tied up?"

He snorted.

I continued. "You seem to be uncommunicative today, tell me did you happen to have a troublesome childhood. I sense some buried hostilities in you. Perhaps your father beat you, hmm? Or perhaps your mother mistreated you.

"Shut up!" "My mother was a good woman!" he snarled. "It was all my father's fault! He always wanted me to be strong and ruthless! I wanted to plant and nurture things. But he thought it was a waste of time! I guess he was right though. I turned out alright, didn't I?" Hey! Why am I telling you all this!?"

"Relax," I breathed. "It seems to me you just had a breakthrough.

"Do you think so?" he asked. I affirmed this.

He sighed and got up. I guess I can untie you. It looks like that your only skill is the way you put your words together. You seem pretty harmless. I'll help you out for a while until you get the hang of meeting people without pulling heat. All I want in return is that nice little lever gun of yours.

When your hands are tied behind your back, any offer is one that you can't refuse. I smiled and accepted with great enthusiasm. He untied my bonds and stepped back a few feet while I got up and rubbed my wrists.

"By the way," he interjected, "Don't try that psyche shit on me or anyone else. Some people don't take kindly to mind games. Out here in the wasteland, we like nice, direct speech. Big words and flowery spiels don't help one rep out here."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It seems that Fred, as his name turned out to be, had been testing me. I went back to his village with him and he showed me around the place. The village lay about a mile west from the spring. Every day, the residents took turns fetching water for the mayor of the town. They called it a town. A town should be bigger, I thought, but they called it a town anyway. They had a well in the middle of village sized town, but the water tasted bad, so the mayor got someone to bring him clean water from the spring outside of town.

The town had building put together from an assortment of items. It seems that car parts made good walls. There were hoods and roofs and trunks. Pretty much every large part of a car that could be used was put into the building. Sheet metal and from old warehouses and factories were on the nicer building. The town had a bar; a barber, who was also the bartender; a doctor who proscribed hard liquor for most aliments, and pulled teeth to cure the others, and just happened to be the bartender, and a mayor's office where the town council met. Coincidentally, the mayor for the past twelve years was also the bartender.

After giving Fred my Winchester and fifty rounds of ammo (I hid the rest), my first order of business was to get a drink and meet the mayor. As I may have already indicated, that was possible to do at the same time. The barber/mayor/doctor/bartender's name was Peter Louis Moonshine. Everyone just called him Pete or Moonshine. He seemed to be a nice enough guy. He was a short, balding, snaggletooth man with a squint of the eye and a limp of the leg. He told me, without my asking, that he had had his leg injured when a large group of geckos had converged on his town. He claims to have single-handedly driven off the geckos with a flaming stick and a butcher knife. Unfortunately for him, just as he had them on the run, he tried to pursue them. An old tree root tripped him and he fell onto his knife and stick. The knife went into his leg and broke his femur, and the flaming stick ended up burning his ass. That made sure that he had to work standing up until the blisters healed. Pete became something of a local celebrity by saving the town though. They made him mayor and let him take over any other job that he wanted, this explains how he got to be the mayor/doctor/bartender.

The only other person that was anywhere near as influential as Pete was Sally Sleeper, the proprietor of the local whorehouse, café, and general store. The store bought and sold food, tools, clothes, weapons, and armor. The café sold plate lunches that cost very little, and the local whorehouse rented women. It seemed that Pete Moonshine and Sally Sleeper controlled all the essentials of life.

I talked to Pete for quite awhile that first day. I learned that the town was named Paul's Town. Apparently, someone named Paul founded the town as a hub of shipment to the west. The whorehouse and café with the general store in front was called "The One-Stop-Shop." The bar was called "Moonshine's Madhouse," by far the catchiest name in town. In the week that I stayed in town, I discovered that bar was very aptly named as well: all manner of madness occurred there. Farmers and cattlemen gathered at the town twice a year to form a large caravan heading west, supplying a place called New Reno with all the corn, beef, corned beef and liquid corn that they needed. They were well paid and often the ranchers would spend days in town getting drunk after a long trip west.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I quickly decided that this town would do nicely for the new home for my vault. There was fertile soil, sufficient water from an underground aquifer, and had plenty of room to expand. Unfortunately, the ranchers did not take kindly to the idea of a large city being built out of Paul's town. I had broached the subject to Miguel Andreas, the head rancher of the area while dining at Moonshines', and he did not respond very well. He slammed his shot glass down onto the table and told me in very harsh tones, "I don't want no damned city here. Cities mean more farmers and less ranch space." I pointed out the vast prairies as ranch space, but he suggested that I build my city someplace else anyway. I nodded politely and excused myself. I left the table and went to my rented room to radio my vault. They were ecstatic about the location, and advised me to find a way to dispose of Mr. Andreas. The other ranchers would not be a problem with him gone, and the farmers would welcome us.

Now Andreas had a huge tract of land for his cattle. He kept over twenty thousand head of super-sized Texas Longhorns, and had the ranch hands to match. He had five hundred highly trained riders to keep the cattle on their allotted land. They were the main force during the long cattle drives to New Reno. All of them had made the trip at least five times. The cattle drive was over a fifteen hundred miles one way through scorching desert and many difficult obstacles. They had to pass the bandit territory, which lasted some three hundred miles to the west, and only ended there because the geckos were too plentiful further west. The geckos' territory went on for another five hundred miles, and then thinned out because of the Deathclaw menace. The Deathclaws' reigned supreme for another five hundred miles. The Deathclaws didn't venture further west because bandits outside of New Reno were much more heavily armed than regular bandits. Years of dealing with the Enclave had given them combat armor and plasma rifles. They also liked to raid cattle drives on the last two hundred miles to New Reno.

After they arrived in New Reno, the cattlemen had to bargain with the Salvatores, the Bishops, the Mordinos, and the Wrights.

After the bartering, Andreas's men had to return back across the wasteland with its bandits, deathclaws, geckos, and more bandits before arriving at the safety of Paul's Town. To survive this trip, they needed to be the strongest, toughest, luckiest men to ever walk the continent. These men had skin that makes leather look delicate. A knife slash would just cut the callus on their belly and not even draw blood. They wore jackets made of deathclaw hide. Nothing short of an energy bolt could pierce the back of the jackets, and when buttoned, they made for excellent bulletproof vests.

These were some very tough men. My current plans called for the eradication of Andreas and any who stood in my way, therefore I would need to get very good mercenaries to aid me on destroying this army. I decided that I would wait until we got to New Reno before I could even consider eradicating Andreas and his men. Until then I would just enjoy the trip and gather more Intel for my vault.


End file.
